The Show Must Go On
by Fyrie
Summary: "We Will Rock You" fic - After Britney's death, Meatloaf tries to face up to imprisonment and life without him.


It was dark.

If anyone had even glanced into the solitary holding cell, they wouldn't have even realised that the tiny room was occupied, the single resident crouched in the corner, hidden by the deepest shadows she could find.

Yes, it was dark in the cell.

But that wasn't what had reduced the once-strong woman to a numb girl.

Pressed against the cold, metal walls, she hugged her knees against her chest. She could feel the buckles on her bodice cutting into her thighs, but nothing seemed to matter and anyone could see that.

__

Empty spaces, what are we living for?

Abandoned places. I guess we know the score.

On and on, does anybody know what we are living for?

Tears stung her eyes and she swallowed a sob.

She wouldn't cry.

Shouldn't cry.

He was always so strong and now, he was gone, leaving her to be strong in his place and strong people didn't cry, not even for the death of the one they loved more than anything in the world.

He had fought and died for them.

__

Another hero, another mindless crime

Behind the curtain in the pantomime.

Oh the light, does anybody want to take it anymore?

Cold seeped through her skin, her ragged fishnet tights useless against the ice-cold metal of the floor and walls. Her shaking hands rubbed her upper arms, trying to warm herself.

She, along with almost all of the other Bohemians and lovers of real music, had been captured by the aides of Killer Queen, the domineering Over-Lady who controlled the music market of the present day.

The Bohemians had done nothing wrong, as far as they could see, apart from the shallow crime of feeling that the manufactured music of the 'plastic fantastic' twenty-third century was nothing like real music.

They had waited for so long for the one, the dreamer, who could show them where real music had disappeared too and barely hours after he had been found, Heartbreak Hotel, their sanctuary had been invaded. 

They had fought as best they could with their pitiful number and the futile weapons they had, but it as no match for the laser technology of Globalsoft, the World-controlling empire led by Killer Queen. 

That was when she had seen her beloved Britney simultaneously take a blast to the chest and head, collapsing amid the ruins of what had been their home and safe haven for nearly ten years.

Footsteps in the corridor made her freeze, forcing down the pain of her loved one's untimely death. 

She would show them the strength that Britney had always possessed, which she so desperately needed now. She would show them just how strong the belief and love of real music was.

The Bohemians weren't dead.

She would make them see.

__

The show must go on! 

The show must go on!

Inside my heart is breaking, 

My makeup may be flaking, 

But my smile still stays on.

Raising her head defiantly, she flinched as the blinding white lights illuminated her cell, dazzling her. Her door slid aside and she squinted through blood-shot eyes at the figure standing there.

"Good evening, Miss Loaf." Khashoggi's smile was ice-cold. Clad in his impeccable cut grey suit, his eyes concealed by dark glasses, his glove-encased hands folded behind his back, he approached her.

"Go tae hell." Meatloaf whispered, her lips dry and cracked. 

One of Khashoggi's brows rose. "Judging by that biting welcome, I would assume that you dislike me."

"Go on, yerself. Yer just too smart fer the likes o' me." Shivering, she used the wall to push herself to her feet, her hands skittering on the smooth surface. "Whit hov ye come here fur, now?"

"Now, now, Miss Loaf,"

"Mah name," She growled, tossing her tangled blonde hair back from her face. "Is Meatloaf.."

"How...quaint." His lips spread in what he probably considered a cool smile, but Meatloaf had seen a less dangerous expression on a deadly serpent. "Tell me, Miss Loaf, that young fellow who was fatally injured..." He saw he flinch. "You knew him, I take it?"

"Ah told ye," She blinked hard, to stop tears from falling. "Mah name is Meatloaf, nae Miss Loaf. Are ye deef or just thick in the head?" 

It probably wasn't the best thing to say to the Second in Command of Globalsoft.

That was confirmed when a gloved hand hit her in a stinging backhand across the face, with more force than she imagined the white-haired man to managed from a standing start.

Raising a hand to touch her throbbing cheek, she winced, her eyes still fixed on the formidable man standing before her.

"I would suggest that you be more polite, Miss Loaf." Khashoggi's voice was quiet, calm and civilised, as he straightened his glove. Assuming his initial stance, his hands folded behind his back, his thin-lipped smile returned. "I would hate to have to teach you a lesson in manners."

Meatloaf pushed some loose strands of hair back from her eyes, pressing her lips together mutinously.

"Now that you understand me, Miss Loaf," He said. "We can speak like..." His eyes scanned over her ragged clothes, his lip curling, implying his distaste. "Civilised people, perhaps we can come to some kind of...arrangement. I am certain you would like to be free once again."

Meatloaf said nothing.

She knew what would happen to her, no matter what he said.

Without question, she was destined for the Seven Seas of Rye, the place where all Bohemians went after their memories were wiped, to take away all notions of what real music was.

After all, no one was allowed to be an individual in this world.

__

Whatever happens, I leave it all to chance

Another heartache, another failed romance,

On and on, does anybody know what we are living for?

If she was going to go out as Britney had, she knew she had to take the chance. She had nothing left, but the music.

"Whit dae ye want tae know?" 

Khashoggi's cold smile faded fractionally. "Some of your Bohemians escaped."

Escaped? Meatloaf's heart leapt with relief. Maybe that meant that Galileo-Figaro had made it! He was all that mattered and if he was free, there was still a chance for real music!

"Whit's that got tae do wi' me?"

Khashoggi took a lazy step towards her and the Bohemian slammed back against the wall in panic. "My dear Miss Loaf." He murmured, raising a hand to grip her chin tightly. "Surely it is obvious what I want from you."

__

I guess I'm learning, I must be warmer now. 

I'll soon be turning round the corner now.

Meatloaf blinked stupidly at him.

"Tell me where they would go."

"Ah dinnae know that."

Khashoggi studied her face coldly, then released her chin, taking a white kerchief from his breast pocket to clean his leather gloves, as if she had left some filthy residue on the fingertips. "You would do well to be more...cooperative, Miss Loaf." He suggested quietly.

Meatloaf saw the flicker of motion an instant before he struck her again.

The strike sent her reeling against the wall, and she sank down, shaken by the force of the blow.

"I suppose I will see you on trial, Miss Loaf." The man sneered coldly, as he turned and prowled out of the cell, the door buzzing shut behind him, leaving the Bohemian sprawled against the wall.

Shaking, Meatloaf hesitantly raised her fingers to her lips, the taste of blood filling her mouth. Her fingertips came away stained red and her lower lip felt swollen. Her right cheek and jaw ached.

She turned her body and pressed her swollen cheek against the smooth metal of the wall, wincing at the first touch of the chilly steel against her heated skin. Her left hand came across her body and pressed against the wall.

Above her, the blinding lights flickered out again, leaving her plunged into the darkness once again. 

As the cold of the metal spread through her again, she wriggled around until she was sitting against the wall again, tugging at her hotpants so she could sit without her buttocks being in direct contact with the cold steel.

Her arms folded over her chest, trying to retain some kind of heat, the Bohemian squinted up at the top of the cell.

Somewhere at the top of the wall, there was an air vent. It was tiny, but it allowed a miniscule sliver of light to cut into the darkness of her prison, and that slit of light was the thing she needed now.

A pale ray of gold seemed to curl through the opening and - despite the pain of her lips and cheek - Meatloaf forced a smile. 

It was short-lived though, tears welling in her eyes as she realised that less than twenty-fours hours before, she and Britney had snuck up into the upper alcove of the Heartbreak hotel to watch the sun rise.

Despite his act, he was a big softy. 

Now, a new day was beginning and Meatloaf wanted to curl up and die, just so she could be with him again.

__

Outside the dawn is breaking, 

But inside in the dark, I'm aching to be free.

Somehow, she managed to quell the tears.

Utter exhaustion had finally caught up with her and within minutes, in spite of the tumultuous thoughts running through her mind, she sank down against the wall, her chin drooping onto her chest.

Only for her to be rudely awoken by the guards, lights flaring to life and sirens wailing deafeningly.

"On your feet, prisoner!" A black-clad guard at the doorway bellowed in at her, as the disorientated woman scrambled to her feet, blinking. "Out! Now! Your trial and interrogation begins in ten minutes!"

Straightening her corset and pushing her hair back again, her body aching and stiff from the cold, Meatloaf straightened her back determinedly, raising her chin proudly and striding towards the door. 

"This is for you, Brit." She breathed.

__

The show must go on! 

The show must go on!

Inside my heart is breaking,

My makeup may be flaking, 

But my smile still stays on.

To her surprise, the rest of the Bohemians were also being herded into the hall along with her. Bob the Builder and Cliff Richard, two of Britney's closest friends, moved to flank her, each trying to glare threateningly at the guards if they came near her.

Unfortunately, both of them were looking the worst for wear, make-up smudged, unshaven and generally exhausted.

"You okay, babe?" Cliff muttered.

Meatloaf forced a smile. "Ah think so."

"Liar." Bob said, giving her hand a squeeze. "You think...think we'll be sent to the Seven Seas of Rye?"

"Probably." Cliff's voice was melancholy.

A genuine, albeit small, smile reached Meatloaf's lips. "And we'll become part of the legacy of real music, lads." She said softly. "Galileo escaped and he'll bring back music an' he'll tell oor story."

"But if..."

"If we're sent tae the Seven Seas o' Rye, we'll still hov had somethin' tae do wi' Galileo learnin' the secret of the living rock." She said. "We might be broken, but we'll still hov started him on his way."

__

My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies

Fairytales of yesterday that broke, but never die

I can fly, my friend!

The group of Bohemians were herded towards a large, arched doorway, down long corridors of silver and white. Large computer and televisual screens projected the Globalsoft logo and images of Killer Queen.

Jackson Five, in an impressive display combining true Bohemian independence and blinding stupidity, managed to aim a juicy glob of saliva and mucus at one of the monitors, hitting Killer Queen in the middle of the forehead. 

It had the unfortunate side-effect of getting him pummelled by the guards.

"I'd give my drum-lid-bangers to see him actually do that to the bitch herself." Bob whispered to Meatloaf and Cliff, before rushing in to liberate the hapless Jackson Five from the guard pile.

"Doesnae look like we're gonna have time tae see that." Meatloaf uttered, her voice shaking slightly. "We're here." The rest of the group had gone rigid behind her, staring at the doors that led the way to their doom.

"What are we gonna do, Meat?" Madonna demanded.

Meatlof turned to her friends and this time, her smile was clear and confident. "We are gonna show them how a Bohemian goes, right?" Turning, she stiffened her back and proudly walked through the doors.

"She's barmy." Cliff noted. "But what a way to go."

One by one, each of the Bohemians followed the blonde, determined to show the 'establishment' that they - despite the pant-wetting terror that each of them was feeling - weren't afraid to stand for what they believed in. 

__

The show must go on! 

The show must go on!

I face it with a grin, 

I'm never giving in! 

On with the show!


End file.
